Power of the Implants
Power of the Implants From the notes of Sir Joseph Rigard. One of the first perplexing things of these islands, one of the first mysteries that new individuals are introduced to, is the strange, rhomboid device implanted in their wrist. Implant. That is the popular term for these strange objects. Whatever their greater purpose is, it is obvious that they provide several benefits for us 'survivors'. Here, I shall list, and detail, these beneficial factors. Developmental Assistance These implants are, quite obviously, some sort of observatory devices. Whether or not it allows something else to observe us, is unknown. But it is clear that they allow us to observe ourselves, in a sense. When we awake on these beaches, we are weak, tired, our minds foggy. Through some sort of instinctual method, these implants allow us to track, and plot, the growth of our minds, and bodies. There are no numbers, no displays, simply, a knowing, a comparison, of what we are now, compared to what we were when we awoke on the beach. Technological Assistance Not all individuals who arrive on these islands are the same. We seem to be plucked from several different times, different places. Different technological advancements. And yet, I have observed those of lesser technological advancements, learning and adapting to new technologies with alarming speed and capability. After observing, interviewing, and studying countless individuals, I have come to the conclusion that there is a pattern to this development. Those within a group of various individuals, with capabilities in various fields, enough so to provide for most everything they may need, will generally develop only within their respective capabilities. However, individuals who are isolated, without the intellectual aid of other individuals, will soon find themselves learning, and becoming capable in many fields which they have no experience. This causes me to come to a simple conclusion. The implants provide for us, giving us the tools which we need to survive. If we need to be able to make something, we will be provided with the knowledge to create it, in one way or another. It is up to us to use this knowledge, these tools, to survive. Directive Aid There are many situations, where individuals should not know how to proceed, what direction to take. And yet, I have seen time and time again, hunches, instincts, random impulses, leading to magnificent outcomes. Far too often to be a coincidence. My belief, is that the implants provide us with subtle directions. They guide us to progress. They guide our interest to the obelisks. They guide us to bring the artifacts to them. Individuals who seek to study and observe the pedestals, will find that they simply know what it wants, to achieve different things. They know that it wants certain artifacts, to open the door to a certain beast, for instance. Whatever destination we are to be headed for, the implants are designed to show us the path. Memory Cache In my experiences, death is not a certainty on these islands. Yes, everyone dies eventually, but not every death is the end. These are instances are a miracle. Curiously, individuals who go through this 'revival' are lacking memories just prior to, and including, their deaths. One could simply write this off as trauma, but given that they literally just came back from the dead, it is unlikely that it is a coincidence. What makes it even more bizarre, is that individuals who have managed to recover their implant from their previous corpse, have been drawn to take it to one of the Obelisks (color does not seem to matter), and, upon stepping onto the platform, their memories from that death have been restored. Translation Device I am unsure of how the implants achieve such a feat, but regardless, this quality cannot be ignored. The implants act as some sort of translation device. I have observed, in my travels, several times where the lips of those I speak to, and the things I hear from them, do not correlate. They are speaking a different language, but I am hearing it as if it were fluently my own. This quality does not seem to extend to written words written with age, however. I have seen countless ancient plaques, writings, and scrolls, and yet, their words are alien to my eyes. However, letters and notes, written but a few days prior, are as readable as my own name. What strange power is this, that fades with age? Or, perhaps, is it intent?